


paper rings

by nighimpossible



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/F, Marriage Proposal, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighimpossible/pseuds/nighimpossible
Summary: “I’m unemployed," Lovett drawls loudly, finishing her drink and then looking Ronan straight in the eye. The statement is a clear test. "Does that turn you on?” Lovett grins at Ronan. She’s acting like Ronan talking to her is some kind of cosmic joke, which is not exactly something Ronan appreciates. Still, Ronan is interested—so she'll play along.“It’s a weird kink for me,” Ronan nods. Lovett laughs and Ronan finds that she really, really likes the sound.
Relationships: Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	paper rings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansets/gifts).

> Dear recipient, I so hope you enjoy this! I know you love these two together, and when I saw that you enjoy a good gender swap fic, I had to dive in. This fic is essentially a series of snapshots of their lives from their meet cute to present day. Happy holidays!

**spring 2011**

“Tell me you’re not some college kid who got lost,” a voice behind Ronan says pleasantly. “I’d feel bad about robbing the cradle.”

It's early April and Ronan has decided to turn over a new leaf: stop being so focused on school and work and start _living_. Get laid, maybe. Get a girlfriend, for her mother's sake. She's just not sure the bar scene is really her speed—that is, until Ronan turns around to find a short woman with dark hair and a smirk on her face.

"Not lost," Ronan grins. This girl is looking at her like the cat who caught the canary, and Ronan kind of likes it. "And I graduated college at fifteen, so that metric is a little off."

"Good lord," the woman laughs in disbelief. "Who _are_ you?"

So Ronan tells her: tells her about her life, her extensive schooling, her job. It all sounds very out of body, explaining the whole _wunderkind _persona. Ronan is just Ronan. It's how she grew up. Her life has never been considered normal, but it's the only life she's ever known.

“Alright, then. What do _ you _ do?” Ronan prods at the dark haired woman at the bar who introduced herself as Lovett. Ronan hopes blurting out her life story sounds impressive enough for a twenty-three year old. To be fair, it's more than the average twenty-three year old has done.

“I’m unemployed," Lovett drawls loudly, finishing her drink and then looking Ronan straight in the eye. The statement is a clear test. "Does that turn you on?” Lovett grins at Ronan. She’s acting like Ronan talking to her is some kind of cosmic joke, which is not exactly something Ronan appreciates. Still, Ronan is interested—so she'll play along.

“It’s a weird kink for me,” Ronan nods. Lovett laughs and Ronan finds that she really, really likes the sound.

“I used to write speeches for the White House,” Lovett admits after a long pause. “Not to brag but like. Kind of to brag, just a little.”

Ronan makes an impressed face. “I assume they fired you for being too good at your job," Ronan says diplomatically.

“For your information, I _quit_,” Lovett says primly.

“Well. Clearly the _White House_ was beneath you,” Ronan nods. She slides a delicate hand across the small of Lovett’s back. It feels like a very bold move, if Ronan says so herself.

“You know,” Lovett shrugs, but a sharp intake of breath betrays her. “Amongst other things.” She squints at Ronan and then adds, “I intended some kind of being on top joke here, but you’re making my brain a little slow right now.”

“In a good way?” Ronan asks. She slides a finger beneath the hem of Lovett's shirt. The skin there is damp with sweat.

“Do you even have to ask?” Lovett laughs nervously. “I thought you dealt in state secrets. You should be able to figure me out pretty easily.”

“Just because I worked in the State department doesn’t mean I was a spy,” Ronan says softly.

“Is _exactly _something a spy would say,” Lovett nods. “Come on, you are _ classic _ honeypot material. I should keep the notebook with all my passwords away from you.”

“A password notebook?” Ronan asks with another laugh. A strange look comes across Lovett’s face, and Ronan tilts her head in confusion.

“You should come home with me,” Lovett says, all the words coming out at once it’s almost hard to understand. “You know. If you want to.”

“Is this where I say, _ I’ll come with you anywhere_,” Ronan says with a smirk. She shakes her long, blond hair out behind her. “Because—sure. Why not?”

Lovett cups Ronan’s face in her hand. “Who the hell_ are _ you?”

“Ronan Farrow,” Ronan grins, sticking out her hand to shake. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ronan sees the wave of recognition pass over Lovett’s face. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Ronan asks innocently.

“There’s such a good _ Rosemary’s Baby _joke here that I can’t use until at _ least _ our third date,” Lovett whines.

_“ Very_ presumptuous,” Ronan grins, relaxing slightly.

“Very,” Lovett nods, pulling Ronan in for a kiss.

* * *

**fall 2011**

“Someone like you isn’t supposed to end up with someone like me,” Lovett tells Ronan incredulously.

"Can we stop with the doom and gloom?" Ronan says with a frown. "I hate when you get like this."

"Like what? Based in reality and pragmatism?" Lovett adds stubbornly.

They are back in Ronan’s apartment. Ronan isn't sure when Lovett became a fixture in her life, but she's become a habit that Lovett can't quit.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Ronan asks, rolling her shoulders and letting her blond hair sliding across Lovett’s bedsheets. She licks her lips and Lovett audibly groans.

“You look like you’re _ from porn_,” Lovett groans, covering her face with the crook of her arm. “And I have a mathematics degree from Williams and eat too much fast food, not because I enjoy it, but because it has its siren hooks in my soul.” Lovett pats her belly forlornly.

“That’s hot,” Ronan half-jokes, because Lovett has always been hot—even when she’s trying to convince Ronan that she’s not. “Also, I like fast food.” Lovett makes an _ oh really _ grunt of disbelief before gesturing at the toned _ everything _of Ronan’s body.

“Tommy asked me if you ever dated men,” Lovett says conspiratorially as Ronan kisses her way down Lovett’s chest. “He’s conventionally attractive. You would make a great pair. Oh, _ fuck _—”

Ronan smiles only a little at the sound Lovett makes when Ronan’s teeth graze over her nipple.

“In whatever universe I like dick, I’m sure we’d make a great pair,” Ronan laughs.

“In this universe, though, you like me,” Lovett says, but it’s more a question than a fact.

“Yeah,” Ronan nods. She kisses Lovett’s stomach gently. “Stop being so surprised about it.”

* * *

**fall 2012**

Thanksgiving at Jon’s place with Ronan is another beast entirely. Lovett had warned Ronan multiple times that her friends are kind but terribly nosy.

“You gotta lock that down,” is the first thing Ronan hears as she turns the corner into the kitchen, leaving the rest of the guests at the dinner table.

“She’s not even past the _ doorway_,” Lovett hisses. “So she can definitely hear you,” Lovett adds in a whisper. “And I _ know_, okay. I know. She's like _Barbie's Angel Dream House Deluxe Girlfriend_. I get it.”

Ronan shouldn’t listen in, but she does. She can’t help it. It’s a bit of an ego boost to know that you impressed the besties.

“She’s essentially Elle Woods in real life,” Emily adds. “I love her and fully endorse, obviously.”

Ronan smiles to herself as she pours another cup of coffee in the ceramic mug provided by the hostess: it reads _ political joke here. _

“Please, Ronan could beat Elle into an early grave,” Lovett boasts. “You know she worked for Holbrooke at State. Along with her JD.”

“Are you sure that’s not a cover for CIA operative?” Emily laughs. “Ronan as a spy infiltrating your life would make more sense, Lovett. Are you sure you're keeping your classified intel in a lockbox?”

Ronan can hear Lovett’s exasperation in her tone. “Does no one believe I am enough of a catch for this to be real?” The question is posed as a joke but the tension in Lovett’s question brings a quiet to the table.

“I’m sure once we start our podcasting empire, she’ll be riding your coattails into the sunset,” Jon reassures Lovett.

“Speaking of, do we have a name yet?” Lovett asks, clearly eager to move on.

“Only bad ones,” Jon says with a sigh.

"Oh good," Lovett sighs. "And here I thought we were getting somewhere."

(Later, Ronan presses Lovett up against the wall of the apartment they share on the west coast—the one that Lovett insisted on moving to in order to pursue her dream of breaking into television writing.

“What’s this for?” Lovett breathes as Ronan kisses her way down Lovett’s neck.

“I want you to know something,” Ronan says seriously. She takes Lovett’s head in both her hands, Lovett’s brown curly hair lovely and bouncy in the cool night air.

“Seems serious,” Lovett nods.

“So pay attention,” Ronan says with a sigh, chasing her words with a kiss.

“You know, it’s hard to pay attention when you keep doing that,” Lovett whimpers.

“I love you,” Ronan says simply.

“Oh,” Lovett replies after a beat of silence. “Well, thank God for that.”

“You don’t have to say it back,” Ronan says generously, but Lovett rolls her eyes.

“Of _ course _ I’m saying it back, you absolute—” Lovett kisses Ronan soundly, with feeling. “_Idiot wunderkind. _What the hell would I do without you?”

“Wither and fade,” Ronan suggests.

“Probably,” Lovett nods. “I really, really love you.”

“Okay,” Ronan nods as her chest fills with affection. “Now that we have that settled.”)

* * *

**winter 2016**

**I hate sexting, by the way.**

**We wouldn’t have to sext if we lived on the same COAST**

**[Picture of Pundit looking despondent]**

**Can you stop including our daughter in this text stream while I have my hand down my pants**

**If you lived here, we could sext minus the t.**

**[Picture of Lovett looking despondent, exposed shoulder included]**

**You are horrible at this and I HATE that it's working.**

**I'm booking you a flight for Monday**

* * *

**summer 2017**

The world doesn’t stop turning when NBC fires Ronan, but it feels like it does—just a little bit. 

After Trump won in November, Ronan should be used to feeling the world still on its axis. And yet she still feels herself stumble en route to baggage claim.

Ronan ends up on Lovett’s doorstep with bags under her eyes and a mess of shaggy hair too long for her liking. She feels tired, deep down in her bones—but there is an ease that comes with hearing Lovett hastily shush Pundit on their way to the door.

“You have a key, you know,” Lovett says fondly as she pushes the door open. She’s wearing an oversized _ straight shooter, respected on both sides _ sweatshirt and no pants. It’s extremely scandalous and very sexy, in Ronan’s opinion.

“My hands were full,” Ronan says, trying for a smirk as she shrugs her two duffle bags that hang around her sides. Pundit whines at Ronan’s feet and Ronan crouches down to greet her. “Hey, sweetheart.” Pundit whines happily as Ronan pets her gently. God, she’s missed the unbridled affection Pundit always dishes out.

“Where’s my _ hey, sweetheart? _” Lovett asks defiantly. She’s already hoisted both of Ronan’s duffles inside the foyer and has both hands on her hips. Ronan looks up from her knees at Lovett and knees her way forward to press a kiss to Lovett’s bare skin.

“Okay, alright,” Lovett says, a blush coming across her cheeks. She reaches down regardless and threads a hand into Ronan’s hair, tugging her head backwards so that Ronan has to stop nosing at Lovett’s inner thigh. “Let’s get you out of the doorway before we scandalize the neighbors.”

“Too late,” Ronan hums but follows Lovett inside regardless.

“Can you take a breath before you dive into the next crisis?” Lovett asks as Ronan’s phone continues to vibrate with a barrage of text messages—this time from Deirdre at the New Yorker asking about a new round of edits for the longer print piece. Even if NBC isn’t going ahead with the Weinstein story, Ronan _ will _ get this piece out if it’s the last thing she does.

All the same, Ronan sighs a little before setting her phone to Do Not Disturb.

“Just one,” Ronan replies. Ronan lets Lovett take her into her arms and hold her around the middle.

“You’re going to be fine,” Lovett intones as Ronan buries her face in Lovett’s neck. “I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll keep you in finery and smoothies.”

“Stop making fun of my smoothie habit,” Ronan laughs, but her vision is blurring with tears. It’s been a hard road on the Weinstein story, and NBC falling out from under her feet had been a gut punch to say the least. “Thank you.” Her voice warbles only a little bit, and Lovett just squeezes her tighter.

* * *

**summer 2019**

“I have a draft for you,” Ronan tells Lovett. “I need you to read it tonight.”

“You want me to read an entire book in one night,” Lovett says blankly.

“You’ve read most of it before,” Ronan points out.

“You realize I have a show to prep for,” Lovett groans.

“Lovett—”

“_And I’m flying out to Washington_—” Lovett reminds Ronan.

Ronan had not anticipated how difficult it would be to propose to her girlfriend.

“If you love me, you’ll read it_ and_ let me know what you think,” Ronan says.

Lovett’s eyes widen. “Wow. Pulling out the big guns.”

“I just want your opinion before it goes back to the editors!” Ronan backtracks.

_"If you love_ me. I swear." Lovett rolls her eyes. “Fine. Give me a couple hours at least.” Lovett grabs her laptop and runs into the living room to settle on the couch with Ronan’s new draft.

Lovett finds the proposal in Track Changes pretty quickly.

The question reads _ Marriage? On the moon or even here on Earth? _It's a stupid inside joke, one that only the two of them fully understand after years of their parents begging them to get married.

"Sure," Lovett murmurs, shoulder against the doorframe. She's looking at Ronan like she hangs the moon. It's not an unfamiliar gaze, but it's one that Ronan could get used to for the rest of her life. "Why not?"


End file.
